


his / hers

by nausicaa_of_phaeacia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Gen, Prompt Fic, last fic before 3x11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_of_phaeacia/pseuds/nausicaa_of_phaeacia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two little drabbles about Daisy and Coulson and clothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. his

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



> becketted (well, zauberer_sirin) prompted my on tumblr and asked me to write something where Daisy and Phil get to wear each other's clothes, or anything clothing related. :)  
> I wrote two drabbles for this, but they belong together. I don't know why, but they aren't really shippy (also not established relationship), but I hope you like them anyways. ♥
> 
> So this is most probably one of the last fics I'll write before 3x11 (maybe even _the_ last one) - I'm excited, I hope I'll still like what I see. Still, I had this weird melancholic ... departure feeling while writing. (That's probably Erroll Garner's fault, though.) ;)

It’s probably nothing more than another botched mission; quite a high-profile one, actually, but nothing life-changing. They’ve been out for dinner in one of those hotels where people lock their actual jewellery in the suite safe and strut around showing off the copies. Well, at least, that’s the kind of hotel it used to be – the dining hall doesn’t look much like one anymore when they help each other up (what Daisy feels most guilty about are the crystal chandeliers scattered and distributed pretty evenly all over the parquet). 

Granted, Coulson doesn’t look like much of a gentleman anymore, this was one of his best suits (or at least the one he’s worn to very important occasions only) and it looks like it’s been shredded and then awkwardly patched up again. Still, that’s nothing compared to what Daisy’s dress looks like; she’s glad she’s wearing normal to decent underwear today, because the top part of her gown shows some similarities to one of those colourful fabric strip curtains you cover you open garden door with during summertime.

Coulson, of course, doesn’t waste a breath and immediately offers her his suit jacket as soon as they are back on their feet (she’s actually pretty surprised that there are still intact heels on her shoes). At first, she really wants to vehemently, but politely decline, then sees his eyes, and they don’t show what you’d expect: it’s not just worry or projected discomfort over her situation, this is something different, but it makes her lean sideways as they leave, half-hugging him inside the revolving door.


	2. hers

Extraction backup won’t arrive till morning and they’re passing time in one of the shady bars near the railway station. Daisy’s managed to sweet-talk the barkeeper into letting them spend the night on the battered sofas in the corner. That’s not really lovely, but it will do (at least after a few quick sweeps with the tablecloth).

The beer’s definitely been diluted, but they don’t even care. Coulson has this weird look on his face that says, _I have no fucking idea how we survived, but we managed_ , like he still doesn’t believe it. Sure, it’s been a pretty wild day and she can’t deny being exceptionally exhausted, but it’s also been a successful mission, especially given the current circumstances.  
He’s managed to hide the dramatic-looking blood stain on his shirt from the customers, and Daisy’s surprised at just how large it is as he’s taking off his jacket. They’re removing their more civilized-looking clothes before going to sleep, already thinking of tomorrow’s extraction move, and Coulson looks a little lost in his undershirt, arms bare. 

He keeps changing positions, audibly uncomfortable, until she offers him her extra-large hoodie, pre-warmed.   
„Won’t you be cold?“  
She’s not exactly answering, because yes, but she’d rather have him sleep well for once.  
„Come here,“ he rasps. „There’s enough space.“  
And it officially makes this sleeping arrangement the most awkward they’ve ever had during a mission, but she simply hides there, next to his chest, her cheek on the soft fabric of the hoodie, in the crook of his neck, until – after what feels like hours – she feels his arm around her.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you liked it! :)


End file.
